Mick

We went to Ireland in 2009, Steve and I. It was perhaps the biggest and best time we had other than our time on Guam while we were dating. There is something to be said about visiting other places different than the usual places we live in daily. Our visit to Ireland, was a sacred vacation because it was my dream destination and Steve made it his too. He gave me a small pewter box shaped like a heart, and told me to write down places I would like to visit then place them in that box. It was our treasure box. I put Ireland.

At the time there was no other place I wanted to go since I knew nothing about my grandma’s home nor her family. I had always been curious about the country she hailed from, but she was very close lipped about her childhood, and the beautiful land I had only seen in pictures in books and television. My heart yearned for it and I knew I had to go there one day. We took the opportunity to visit to celebrate our not yet 30^th anniversary, and combined it with a surprise visit to crash an Irish wedding. My mother and father had been there once before and had been invited to a wedding of a cousin’s child. I was able to contact a cousin I had previously been a pen pal with to formulate a sneak attack and acquire lodging with “family” for a couple of nights while we attended the wedding and surprised my parents.

We met had met Mick at the wedding reception, he and his lovely wife Mary. We had the hardest time understanding Mick all night long and when he gave us direction to his house his accent so thick and mumbled. Steve and I looked at each other and I laughed at the way Steve so politely pretended to understand him and spent the evening attempting to understand. Mick gave us directions at least twice and, well all I understood was ask at the store. What store, ask for directions at the store, how odd. We drove to town and asked if they knew of Mick and Mary and proceeded to give us the directions as Mick had said they would. We were told to look for the statue of the Virgin Mary, that it was the only house on the street with one out front.

We found it, just as the store keeper had said, and Mick met us outside. He had a smile on his face and a glint in his eye and looked like a kid with a secret as he motioned to us to come see his Mary waiting for us. We didn’t quite get what was going on until we realized he was trying so hard to be quiet as he led us into a room where Mary slept in a chair looking out the window for us. He asked us to snap a picture of her sleeping, which we gladly did for the cute little man who seemed so excited to see us. The flash from the camera woke Mary and the smile that came over Mick’s face as she fussed at him was priceless. I will never forget that sheepish grin and the love that passed between the two of them as they fussed at with each other over her embarrassment at being caught asleep. Mary and her use of thee and ye archaic words to me found only in King James Bible and Shakespeare fascinated me. I loved that.

Mick and Steve attempted to talk and I caught most of it and translated for Steve, but the Guinness was what helped them communicate the best.   I watched this beautiful couple, love us from the moment we stepped out of the car. Their hospitality was probably the highlight of our trip well that and our discussion about God and Steve’s angelic encounter he had. That night we made heart friends and I fell in love with these relatives from across the sea like I had known them all my life. I felt so at home here and enjoyed their company and warm hospitality poor Mary apologizing the night away about the condition of her lovely home and the pitiful food she offered us. It was a feast for us to be there at all enjoying the company of family. I had to tell her not to offer us any more food or tea we really were okay and despite our size, we didn’t eat all day.

Steve was the first to leave us in 2010, then in 2011 mom’s cousin whose wedding we crashed passed away and this year, last night, it was Mick. I know there is a joyous homecoming somewhere, but right now I grieve with Mary as I grieved with Rita last year. I was so blessed to be able to have time with these strong Irish women and their precious husbands. Isn’t life strange? I know things always happen for a reason, still trying to figure this one out. Mary is a strong woman and I know she will be alright because her faith is so strong and her family bonds so tight. As I finish this blog, I see that twinkle in Steve and Mick’s eyes I saw in Ireland as they drank silently watching their women across the room visiting with each other. They understand each other perfectly now, and have gone before us just to say I told you so probably. My circle of widows is widening as I grow older. Is it because I am older or because of a calling on my life? This I am watching to see.